


Sugar Rush (The Rush Before We Touch Remix)

by fitz_y



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: A bit of gore (but it's pink), F/F, Friends to Lovers, Humor that has just a touch of angst, Pink monsters, Podfic Available, Prequel, Silly fight scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitz_y/pseuds/fitz_y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the girls fight a sugar monster and then have the feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Rush (The Rush Before We Touch Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [credoimprobus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Taking the Scenic Route](https://archiveofourown.org/works/338069) by [credoimprobus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/pseuds/credoimprobus). 



> Credoimprobus, I absolutely LOVED reading all your Lost Girl fic and it was such a treat to work with your material. Bo/Kenzi has always been my OTP for this show, and I’ve never found someone who handles it so damn well and believably as you do. 
> 
> So many huge thanks to my darling beta Netgirl_y2k for having a keen eye for choreography and for knowing when to cut the unnecessary.

Lying in a pile of cereal boxes is not exactly the way that Bo envisioned going out. She’s spitting out Lucky Charms that landed in her mouth after a crash sent her into an exploding wall of cereal and cursing herself for not being more prepared for this bullshit.

The sugar demon is smirking down at her—if underfae without lips could smirk—like a gigantic pink marshmallow Peep that spent too long in the microwave. It rears back on its wide base and edges forward, continuing its slithering trail of florescent pink sparkles. Its slimy pink claws glitter in the near dark of the supermarket lit only by emergency exit lights. And suddenly those claws are slashing towards her face. And Bo is _so done_ with enemies she doesn’t know how to fight. With the last of her energy, she shoves herself out of the way, rolling against more felled shelving.

The demon lets out a high-pitched howl—like the sound a cat in heat makes but amplified by about 5 billion decibels—and from its tractor beam where a mouth should be it sucks in all the cereal splattered around the aisle, absorbing the Lucky Charms and Kellogg’s Pops and Count Chocula into its blobby, expansive membrane. 

While it’s stirring up a sugar cereal tornado around her, Bo secures her footing amid the sugary ruins and reaches for the knife hitched into her boot. She’s just slipped it free from its tight sheath, but, before she even has a chance to hurl it across the short distance between herself and the demon, the demon shoots out a thick stream of pink bile that wraps around her hand, gluing it and the knife in place against her calf. This is _so_ not cute or funny anymore. Reaching out with her free hand, Bo rolls to all fours—or all threes, given that one hand is stuck to her own leg—and begins to scramble as fast as she can to get away. Maybe if she can just get a breather, regroup, at least get out of the fucking sugar aisle, which just seems to syphon more and more power into this crazed demon—

“Hey!”

 _No, no, no, no._ She told Kenzi to search the destroyed apartment that was the site of their last battle scene. She told Kenzi that finding the spelled box for the stone was important. She told Kenzi she would handle this one on her own.

Bo falls on her butt and spins around to see Kenzi facing down the slithery shiny pink monstrosity. Hip tilted at a jaunty angle, blonde wig perfectly in place, Kenzi smiles up at it. It looks like a gigantic pink tsunami about to crash down on her. Kenzi’s clutching a gigantic tub of Utz pretzels three times the size of her head. 

Moving slowly, the creature is twisting so it can fix its neon-florescent eyes on Kenzi.

“Didn’t anyone teach you manners? It’s rude to eat off the floor,” Kenzi calls out. It’s inching closer to her, and Bo has to figure out some way to get its attention off Kenzi, but all she can do is stare and watch as Kenzi unscrews the pretzel barrel lid. 

“This is for you,” she calls out, still talking to the nonverbal monster, because that’s Kenzi—never missing a chance to get a quip in, even in the face of impending death at the claws of a glittery sugar monster. “It’s going to balance your diet.” 

And then she full-force chucks the open contents of the pretzel tub towards the monster. It squeals as the pretzels hail down on its surface, sliding into its skin with small ripples. The squealing is reaching stuck-pig proportions now, and what could be called the demon’s neck is tilted back, its eyes turned to the ceiling as its outer membrane begins to turn deep red all over.

“Bobo, here, catch!” Kenzi’s calling as she pulls out gigantic saltshakers—and where in her jean pockets did she have room for those—and tosses one towards Bo. It arcs over the monster. 

Bo hobbles backwards to snag it out of the air. “Now what?”

“Salt kills it! Salt that motherfucker to death.” She’s ripped the lid off her own saltshaker and approached the monster, salt flying in all directions over its slimy skin as she vigorously pounds salt over it. 

Using the hand that’s free, Bo knocks it open, creeps forward, and follows suit. If she weren’t bone tired and unsure of whether she’d thrown her back out in that fall, Bo would be laughing at the fierce dedication Kenzi’s showing to the act, covering every inch of the monster she can reach with salt like a kid determined to make the best and most thorough craft project ever. 

It roars, slithering back and forth, but given how it hasn’t tried any offensive attacks since the first bit of salt pricked its skin, given that its skin is bubbling over, Bo thinks they’ve got this covered.

“How’s that for salt in your wounds?” Kenzi says right as the whole thing combusts, exploding over the two of them in a gooey mass of something that feels like hot sticky taffy.

Bo careens backwards—falling on her butt yet again—the explosion’s momentum whipping through her and her freed hand windmilling through the air. 

She can’t do more than stare at Kenzi through the streaks of pink goo running down her face, and before she can stop it, she’s laughing and laughing and laughing so hard her belly hurts. And just … how is Kenzi so amazing?

High heels clicking on the tiled floor, Kenzi steps forward, reaches right into the heart of the sticky mess, and pulls out a glimmering red stone. “I’ve got the box for this in the car.” 

She looks up at Bo, her jaw muscles popping with tension. “It seems like a lot of trouble to find a tacky fake gemstone.” And like that, all the laughter and quips seem to have drained out of her. “You need take out?” she asks evenly.

And, even dripping in slime the color of bubble gum, Kenzi looks so _good_ standing there, light blue eyes pinning Bo in place, her lush bottom lip pinched into a frown. No, Bo wants to say. No, I don’t need take out. I need you. 

Because the thing is, for days now Bo hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what Kenzi tasted like when she launched herself at Bo and plastered her mouth against hers, all lips and desperation and anger.

Bo manages a nod, dragging her thoughts back to the here and now of the ruined supermarket around them. “Yeah. I think I might have seriously fucked up my back.”

Kenzi attempts to step over the goo, grimacing as it sloshes at the base of her heel. “I’ll have you know these are Vivienne Westwood.”

Bo accepts her hand up, stumbles as she’s standing, and then lets Kenzi wrap an arm around her waist. And _God_ it would be so easy to just lean in, press her lips to Kenzi’s neck and inhale her scent, the one that was starting to smell like home to Bo. She shakes her head, as if she can clear the thoughts out of there. “We’ll get Trick to buy you a new pair. He’s the one who sent us on this ridiculous mission, after all.”

“He’s going to have to do a lot more than just a new pair of boots to make up for this. An easy retrieval mission, my ass.” 

“Yeah.” 

“First you have to cross swords with some crazy thousand-year-old acrobatic fae who’s guarding the thing, and then she feeds it to that demon back there. You know, Bo, you could have just said no when Trick asked you to retrieve this.” She’s tossing the stone up and down in her palm like an old tennis ball.

“C’mon, Kenz, you love the adventure,” she says laughing lightly with the last of her energy. Because what she can’t handle is Kenzi looking at her and not understanding, Kenzi not being right there, right within reaching distance, Kenzi deciding this is all too much for her. Bo groans and presses a hand to her back. It’s all too much to think about. 

Kenzi nods, letting it drop. “Alright, Bobokins, we're going to need to hose you off or something before we find you some take-out. I think there’s a 24-hour car wash in this shopping complex. Why don’t we just walk through that? Easier than trying to find a place for a real shower.”

Bo laughs. Because why not? It’s a fine idea. 

“How’d you figure that out about the salt, anyway?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light as she hobbles toward the exit, her back jolting in pain every step.

“I called Hale. While you were rushing in to retrieve the stone from that vicious fae’s pet sugar monster, I had the presence of mind to call Hale for tips on fighting underfae with a penchant for Lucky Charms. That’s why I’m the enterprising assistant.”

Bo squeezes Kenzi’s shoulder where her hand is cupped around it. “What would I do without you?”

And suddenly, Kenzi straightens and steps away, not looking at Bo. “You’d fucking die, you would, Bo. Why did you think you could run in there without … This monster was … No,” she wipes at her mascaraed eyes, and is she blinking back tears? “No, I’m not talking about this now, Bo.”

*

The car wash works surprisingly well, and, even dripping wet and fighting exhaustion, Bo manages to have no problem enticing the gas station attendant into the dirty bathroom. It has no toilet seat and smells something fierce. But Bo tries not to breathe through her nose, hops up onto the sink, and twines her legs around him. She manages to draw enough energy from him without killing him (thank God she’s finally gotten good at that part, especially when they’re people she’s not very attracted to in the first place) and leaves him in a happy slump with his arms around the toilet. Maybe she feels a smidgen of guilt for letting him slump on the tile that looks like it hasn’t seen a cleaning in 100 years, but his dreams will be so good she doubts he’ll care.

“What do you think, Bo?” Kenzi asks when Bo exits the bathroom, joining her in the convenience store, “Pizza-flavored Combos and Cheetos for a late dinner?” She’s holding up two gigantic bags of junk food she’s swiped while Bo had the gas attendant otherwise occupied. And the smile on her face is so _fucking delighted_ at the prospect of junk food that Bo can’t even muster a half-hearted critique for the theft. “I don’t know if I can ever eat anything sweet ever again,” Kenzi says, sighing dramatically, as they head for the car. “But I can definitely do pizza flavored.”

“Oh, I doubt that will last long. One look at Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked and you’ll be drooling, forgetting all about that sugar monster.” 

Kenzi bats at her with one of the XXL bags, and Bo retaliates by tickling Kenzi, across her waist, up the sides of her ribs through her gossamer thin shirt. Kenzi howls, chucks the Cheetos bag at her, which Bo dodges, and then makes a beeline for the car, heels echoing loudly in the lonely night of a highway pitstop. Bo catches her in time, pins her against the car door, and proceeds with the tickling onslaught. And then, suddenly, like a crack of lightning across a brooding sky, she can taste it then in the air around them—the moment Kenzi’s amusement shifts into something deeper, into a physical throbbing, into sexual need.

Bo drops her hands by her side. Only a few short breaths of air hang between them, and Kenzi’s looking up at her steadily. 

And that kiss two weeks and three days ago. That damn kiss that hijacked everything Bo had ever thought about the platonic nature of their friendship. That kiss has seared itself into Bo’s brain, and now its memory hovers right there, between them. Rocking forward on the balls of her feet, Bo shortens the distance between them. Kenzi’s steady gaze is unreadable.

Bo shakes her head, uncertain. She _could_ kiss Kenzi now. She can taste in the air how aroused Kenzi is, and it feels like a pure, delicious, heady rush of tequila to her system. Kenzi meets her gaze but doesn’t move, just sucks in a few deep inhales as she stares at Bo. But she doesn’t move.

But, no, it has to come from Kenzi. Because the thought of Bo’s succubus powers somehow harming Kenzi, even if—especially if—it happens because Bo loses control, that thought sloshes over her like a bucket of freezing water. 

Bo leans back on her heels. They haven’t even _talked_ about that other kiss, and maybe Kenzi didn’t even mean it or want it or who knows?

And Bo doesn’t need the kiss again, she realizes. Because _this_ , just the two of them—together and alone—in the middle of the night at this gas station with weeds growing up through its cracked pavement, in this tiny spot of light on a dark highway in the middle of the fucking prairie—kilometers and kilometers away from Toronto— _this_ is all that Bo may ever need. And she’ll take it.

“Bo,” Kenzi says her name like it’s breaking her heart, and then she just shakes her head. “I’m still mad at you, you know. For running off to take on that monster on your own. For almost dying.” She shoves Bo’s shoulder gently, sending Bo stumbling back a step. “Just, just … let’s just get out of here. Just drive.” 

She pauses and Bo takes another step back. 

“But maybe take your time getting home,” Kenzi continues. At that, Bo’s heart does a flip. “I think I need some time before I see Trick again, seeing as right now I want to kill him for this mission he sent us on.”

“I think I need that, too,” Bo says, breaking away from Kenzi and rounding the car. “So we’ll take the scenic route on our way back?”

“If you can find someplace as stunning as that ravine where we overnighted on the way out, I might just forgive you for being stupid,” Kenzi replies.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Sugar Rush (The Rush Before We Touch Remix) by fitz_y](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689487) by [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler)




End file.
